There she is. Standing in front of the class, wearing that almost see-through shirt
with oh-so-many buttons undone. Your grade on the next exam comes second to
waiting for the moment she bends over to check her notes and reveals that sweet,
sweet, mid-late twenties cleavage. Throwing your TA on their desk and doing them
with a sense of taboo and eroticism felt only by priests at middle school soccer
games is a fantasy held by many undergraduates here at Michigan State. And why
wouldn’t it be? Even though your chances of getting a class with a sexy professor
are as likely as you being able to shit meth,some of those professors will come
with a sexy young sidekick (Unless you’re an Engineering major. Is that a ruler, or
is it the ugly stick y’all been smacking each other upside the head with?).
The ratio of graduate assistant attractiveness is pretty straightforward. 10% goes
to their looks. Let’s face it, no TA is a perfect 10, and if they were, they’d just
be models. Any attraction you feel is an illusion anyways, created by the forbidden teacher-student taboo. Your TA can’t be perfect; otherwise they wouldn’t be
as sexy, if that makes sense. 20% is the TA’s higher maturity level. You can really
talk to them about all sorts of things, like basically only any topics you cover in
class. Another 20% goes to their crappy outfits, which goes back to them having
the perfect amount of imperfection, and tricks your genitals into thinking the TA
is more approachable. 50% goes to the ego gratification of sexually conquering a
figure of authority. Is there anything more badass? If I did my hot TA, I’d make an
announcement in the form of an Angel message sent to the whole class stating
that I got all up in that ass. Twice. Then I would bring cupcakes for everybody, and
smack the TA’s ass before giving her one. Chocolate frosting. That’s right, bitch.

Other stuff

Inside

04: The Origins of
Megatron
A brief history of
every Michigander’s
favorite wide
receiver (Note: Not
Charles Rogers.)

So, how do you get some T ‘n A from your TA? First, be a star student. It’s a nobrainer. The whole reason your TA is your TA in the first place is because they have
to buy new undies every time they get to talk, think or write about whatever
subject it is they’re studying. If you shine, they’ll see that you are kindred spirits
and get just as wet as them for…molecular biology.
Now that you’re on their radar, it’s time to really show how much you care…by
going to office hours. This part is a little bit like dating. Take it slow, but make
your appearance a regular occurrence. First, go in under the pretense of getting
the material down. The next time you come in, pretend you're struggling, but
now—Ahah!—you got everything down pat, “thanks to them.” Eventually move the
conversation to other topics, like anything that doesn’t have to do with class. Get
to know them, and eventually they’ll open up faster than a cheat sheet on exam
day. Keep that strong eye contact and, oops, did my leg just accidently touch your
leg Ms. TA? There’s so little room in this office. Go in for it, go in for it, and boom!
You just kissed your TA.
The end is easy. Put up a show like “Oh my god are we gonna get in trouble?” “We
shouldn’t.” “We can’t.” Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Just ask for a ride home and
seal the deal. If your performance in the bedroom is good, they might even “adjust things” to improve your performance in the class. Way to go, champ.

05: Freshman
Year Roommates

Whatever
happened to that
guy who stared
at you in your
sleep?

06: The
Novembeard
Chronicles

The month the
world’s face
itched.

02

Table of

contents

Pg4: top 10
Pg10: Recipe for Disaster: Hot
Jobs College Grads Will Fall Back Dog Mac and Cheese
On
If your dad loves you, he’ll buy
you food so you don’t have to
Pg5: 2250: The East Lansing
eat this.
Odyssey
The East Lansing you’ll never
Pg11: an educational moment
see…unless you’re on a lot of
Teddy teaches you about subacid.
stitution goods!

12-13
11

5

Pg6: From the Streets
What’s the best and worst part
about winter at MSU?
Pg10: Bartender of the Week:
Courtney at Woody’s Oasis can
sate your parched mouth
Pg10: Drinking Game: Jenga
Bricks won’t be the only things
falling down after this game.

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Word of the week
Hegalitarianism:

An Violin Um

Dreamy
Hos Run

Submit your own word! word@theblacksheeponline.com

Definition: Any movement that promotes equal rights for cross-dressers and transvestites.
Sentence: “RuPaul’s Supermodel was a seminal moment in the Hegalitarianism movement.”

04

THe top ten
Jobs College Grads
WILL Fall-Back On
10) Unemployed: What else are all of you English and humanities hipster grads of the Red Cedar-freak show-complex going to
do? Well, you keep saying you’re going to finish your AmeriCorps
application by Friday, but that was four weeks ago and there’s no
way you can turn them in with those kinds of stains. Since you’ve
already ridden the coattails of your parents this far, why not
keep livin’ the dream? Collect welfare to decorate your parents’
newly finished basement with ironic Urban Outfitters furniture.
9) Daycare: Ugh, daycares have the dirtiest babies. Have fun
taking care of runny-nosed little trolls with Kool-Aid stains on
their upper lips. They’ll climb and breathe all over you, all day.
You’ll also discover that everything in your vicinity is wet with
drool, piss, tears, or some combination of the three. Fortunately, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel; you’ll realize that all
children are disgusting devils and you’ll wind up selling your eggs
for a couple grand.

The Origins of Megatron

Alex Everard wrote this

Although many are aware of Calvin Johnson’s roots,(going
to school in Georgia and playing for Georgia Tech before
getting drafted by the once-god-fucking-awful, but now
pretty-damn-good Lions), few know about his origins. The
man nicknamed Megatron has a highly secretive and strange
background. The first person to ever discover the truth is
also the person who nicknamed Calvin Johnson “Megatron.”
That man was former inferior teammate and receiver Roy
Williams, and this is exactly what he told me.
Calvin Johnson was born in Georgia on September 25th,
1985. He was named after his favorite comic book series, Calvin and Hobbes. Although he looked nothing like
Calvin, he was large enough as a toddler to pal around with
full-grown tigers, and did so during numerous visits to the
Atlanta Zoo. By the time Calvin reached middle school,
he realized he was not like the other kids in his class. He
was suspended twice within the first two weeks of seventh
grade: once for sending a
classmate into a coma on the
tire swing, and then again for
dunking on the gym teacher.
In eighth grade, Calvin was
6’4” and weighed over 200 lbs.
He ate everything from pizza
to salad to small mammals,
but often found himself with
strange cravings. While playing with his remote control cars, he frequently fantasized
about mowing down the metal and chewing on the batteries. He figured it would be best if he kept these feelings
and thoughts to himself, so he continued to eat human food
(and the occasional adolescent game mammal).
When high school began, Calvin sought normalcy in the
football team. Calling him a football freak-of-nature,
coaches at Sandy Creek High School took a liking to Calvin
and started him as a freshman. Calvin’s favorite part of
every game was getting dressed—he put on his gear two
hours before the game, and was known to make robot
noises to accompany his movements in the locker room and
during warm-ups. After every game, Calvin was silent as he
remained the last person to get undressed each time. Most
thought he just loved the game, but Calvin knew deep down
it was for a more mysterious reason. A reason he hadn’t

known since he was too young to remember…
Then, it happened. After a dominant state playoff performance during his senior year of high school, Calvin was making out with his high school sweetheart in the back of her
car. They were starting to have sex for the first time, but
Calvin began to feel dizzy. He figured it was just his v-card
nerves and tried to bone through the pain, but it persisted.
Then he began having flashbacks of him as a toddler, lying
on a laboratory table. A faint figure loomed over him.
Suddenly, Calvin’s penis morphed into a giant-robodick and gave his then-girlfriend a hundred simultaneous
orgasms. Her head almost exploded, but Calvin stopped
before she could orgasm any more and ran from the car,
embarrassed of his freakish body.
Calvin lay awake that night, plagued by visions of those
experiments, and that strange man who conducted them.
When he finally drifted to sleep, it all came to him in a
dream. He was three-years old
and his father had just become
terminally ill. He was looking for
a cure to all diseases and used his
fortune to experiment on poor Calvin. Calvin’s father removed all of
his major bones and replaced them
with carbon-enforced steel. He
injected Calvin’s body with growth
hormones and trained his lungs
and heart vigorously. His limbs were genetically modified
with robotic microorganism structures. At the end of the
dream, Calvin’s mother pulled the man away. She scolded
him “I told you to stop!” she yelled his name. “I told you to
stop this, Earvin!”
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Calvin Johnson’s father is
Earvin Magic Johnson. He conducted experiments on Calvin
in his search to cure HIV. Although he has since found the
cure to be loads and loads of money, Calvin was left with
the supernatural strength, speed, agility, and size. Contrary
to popular belief, however, “Megatron” is actually just the
nickname of Calvin’s robot-dick. Everyone on the team
refers to Calvin as “Cal.” And robot dick or not, we still love
him.

"Suddenly, Calvin’s penis
morphed into a giant-robo-dick
and gave his then-girlfriend a
hundred simultaneous orgasms"

8) Data entry: Get used to a life stuck in a box because you’ll
be living an all-too-real reenactment of Office Space (minus the
thousands of dollars, Kung Fu movies, and Jennifer Aniston’s
boobies). Yep, you’ll be doomed to an existence of computerinduced migraines and dreaded interactions with your fellow
cubicle dweebs.
7) Substitute Teacher: I’d like to think I’m not the only one
getting those Facebook ads about becoming a substitute teacher,
but maybe FB has the right idea. You can just pop in a movie,
like La Catrina or The Princess Bride (why was that always a
teacher favorite?), and begin mapping out the futures of the
naive students in front of you. If you really want to spark onset
depression, go back to your old stomping grounds and attempt to
relive your “glory days” as a substitute in your own high school.
6) Bartender: Sure you have to deal with the occasional suicidal alcoholic and pervert whose breath smells like something
crawled down their throat and died, but nothing can replace
your closest friends and regulars: the gaggle of former groupies
for The Ramones, someone’s estranged grandfather who can’t
stop gumming his remaining four teeth, and the 47 year-old exbeauty queen whose leg was amputated (due to Type II Diabetes).
5) Retail Sales Associate: As if you couldn’t hate your life
more, working in retail gives you the best opportunity to watch
people spend money that you’ll never have. Your days will be
spent dealing with whiny, middle-aged hags who demand 5% off
their purchase (with expired coupons) and jerk-off children who
are playing hide-and-seek under the clothing racks you spent
hours reorganizing. You’ll blow the place up eventually.
4) Waiter/Waitress: Much like an unhappy single mother,
you’ll quickly get used to waiting hand and foot on people you
could do without. Welcome to the wonderful world of restaurants where kids choke on mozzarella sticks, there’s spit-up in
the breadbasket and plenty of shitty tips. Your best bet is trying
to land a job at Hooters in hopes that you’ll get discovered for
the next Penthouse spread.
3) Blogger: Whether it’s a new stoner recipe collection, comics, or an even more pathetic version of a LiveJournal (if that
could even exist), you will be one among millions of other Tumblr, Blogger, and WordPress hopefuls. Sure you may develop weak
retinas from staring at a computer screen and a severe case of
agoraphobia, but none of that can belittle the extreme dedication of your six devoted readers.
2) Intern: Welcome to corporate purgatory. Paid or unpaid,
interns are never respected. You are the bitch and your boss
is pimp-daddy Reverend Valentine. You’ll do mountains of monotonous tasks and get treated like an insignificant piece of shit.
Only the duties of utmost importance will be given to you; this
may include sending faxes, licking envelopes, and fetching coffee for people who’ll never bother to learn your name. By the
end of your first month, you will have already begun planning the
company’s demise.
1) Parent: Wow, good life decision. Thanks for creating another
useless child in a struggling world of over 7 billion. Too bad you
couldn’t use that college-educated brain of yours to think before
having unprotected sex.

Samantha Shaughnessy wrote this

05

www.theblacksheeponline.com

Freshman Year Roommates

Where Are They Now?

Black Betty wrote this

Ah, freshman year—a year full of surprises, new
friends, and pregnancy scares. Whether you went
into your living situation blind or knew the person
coming in, you probably don’t know what they’re
up to now. Or maybe you do. Okay, just keep reading the fucking article and quit being difficult.
Freshman Year: A loud, English major and thespian
who loved reading and knew everything there was
to know about philosophy and the arts. She broke
up with her boyfriend because he disagreed on a
personal philosophy regarding Descartes’ meditations. She loved hookah, but was never a big
drinker.
Today: As an activist for pandas and the environment, she is traveling the country to speak,
rally and fight for the right to breathe clean air
and give pandas hugs. She also still enjoys the
occasional spliff to toxify her precious lungs.
Freshman Year: You knew each other in high
school and hung out with her all summer because
you love having new best friends and couldn’t wait
for your future together! She liked to drink, party,
flirt and cry. A lot. She kissed the guy she knew you
had a crush on, then played dumb to avoid getting
slammed in the face. She still got slammed in the
face. That bitch cray.
Today: You decided to never live with her again,
and consequently, your life improved significantly. You tolerate each other and occasionally
drink together, but deep down you know your
relationship is a drunken farce that only feels
real when you’re (a little more than) buzzed
with her, waiting in line at The Landshark.
Freshman Year: You met on allMSU.com because
you didn’t know anyone from high school who
would be a worthy match to live with, and didn’t
want to get stuck with a total psycho going in

blind. You hit it off initially because you’re both
Irish and she didn’t really seem like a bitch at first.
Today: As it turns out, she was a total bitch.
Every interaction you had with her went horribly and she graduated a semester early to get
the hell away from you (and also because you
told her she was a fat kleptomaniac with daddy
issues). Now she lives states away with a decent
job, but you make yourself feel better by telling
yourself that she just works at McDonald’s.
Freshman Year: You met in high school, and he
seemed like a cool dude, so you ended up just
being like, “Fuck it, let’s just live together, bro!”
And you did! And it was cool while it lasted, but
things got weird when he wanted to have a circle
jerk during Elf. You guys kind of drifted apart after
that.
Today: He’s still a cool dude, but you don’t see
or talk to him much anymore besides the occasional Facebook stalking when you’re bored
in your IAH. Now he lives with dudes who shave
their chests and have gym memberships.
Freshman Year: You went in blind and lucked out.
You and your roommate were like two peas in a
pod, (except the peas were humans and the pod
was a dorm room). You did everything together.
And I mean everrrrrrything.
Today: As it turns out, it wasn’t just a bromance— it was the real deal. You guys are still
living together, and this time you’re sharing a
room. And a bed. And sometimes you guys have
butt sex. Things are going well.
So, as you can see, freshman year roommates don’t
always have to leave a sour taste in your mouth.
Sometimes it can be sweet! Real sweet.

2250: The East Lansing Odyssey

(Not To Be Confused With That Shitty Greek Paper)
Justin Gawel wrote this
“Alright, now, Justin just take a few of these Mexican Midols, then pop a couple random
unlabeled pills from the fun mystery bag, then we’ll each get one or two zannie bars from the
Pills-bury Bro Boy’s stash down the hall, and then we’re going to the bar for Double Coupon
Tuesday!”
Don’t remember a thing after that. Not anything for the rest of the year. In fact, I didn’t
remember anything until I was kicked awake on the corner of Grand River and Abbot, where
a calendar clock informed me that the year was 2250 and some homeless spaceman was asking me for cans and trying to act like he was NOT addicted to ultra-galactic-heroin. Nice try,
buddy. Some things never change…Wait, hold on, what is ultra-galactic-heroin?
I thought to myself, shit, this is definitely the future. Damn you, Pills-bury Bro Boy!
A hovering CATA bus suddenly descended from the sky and nearly hit me. A sign on the side
of the bus read, “Now fueled entirely by the homeless who use these as bathrooms.”Jesus,
the future is disgusting. A crowd of students poured out of the bus and headed in all opposite
directions, constantly popping pills into their mouths.
I caught up to a hooker-ish looking space-student and asked her what those pills were and
why she was going through them faster than a crying fat girl through a box of Kleenex, a tub of
Miracle Whip, or a Ryan Gosling movie marathon. Space-Hooker-Girl-Student informed me that
everyone in the future has developed horrible ADHD from the rapid improvements in technology to the point that if they’re not popping Adderall every waking moment they’ll forget what
they are doing and who they are completely. I said, "wow, that’s fascinating, Space-Hooker
Girl Student, but enough talk. How’s about I fly my lunar rocket into your black hole? I feel a
gravitational pull between them, ya dig?"
She responded with something about how it’s a big misconception that everyone in the
future loves space-related puns. She assured me that no one even likes space puns, and that a
creep like me should go find an actual hooker because I am so depraved and lonely. Then she
stormed off before I could even ask her directions to their hooker district! Boy, people in the
future have no manners.
Fortunately, after aimlessly stumbling around Future East Lansing for a block or two I ran
across a booth labeled “FutureSex/LoveSounds” at Charles and Grand River, and it only cost

me four ounces of blood to enter it (Yes, as I’ve said a million times before: blood will eventually replace all forms of money.) After less than a minute in the stall I couldn’t contain myself
anymore (verbally and physically). “Oh, those poor fools back in 2011,” I exclaimed, “Fizzin’
their jizz to Internet porn and then having to clean themselves up with cum rags that are
nothin’ more than their dirty socks. Sounds like a third world country compared to this realistically awesome virtual future-sex-booth. Seriously, I couldn’t tell the difference between this
thing and screwing a real person who’s a complete stranger, except that I’d have to have that
awkward herpes talk after with a real stranger. The future is awesome!” It was at this point
that my brain abruptly blacked-out from being so satisfied and having literally all of my endorphins released.
Then, all of a sudden, I woke up back in 2011 with a wicked headache. As it turns out, after
twenty minutes at the bar I took my dick out, stood on one of the tables, and started demanding “a big bang, like a future-space-fuck” from our waitress. My friends abruptly realized how
messed up I was, took me home, and then I hallucinated the whole traveling forward in time
bit. Go figure.

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From 'da Streets
Got a question you want us to ask?
FTS@theblacksheeponline.com!

As colder weather inevitably
approaches, what do you
think is the best and worst
part about winter at MSU?
"Best Thing: Hats with Koosh balls
on top. Worst Thing: Everything
else, it's the least wonderful time of
the year...I'm Jewish."
-Abby S.

Novembeard Chronicles
Cody Manthei wrote this
Everyone knows that having a beard makes a man perform better in bed. That’s just science. A beard brings
greatness to a man like nothing else can, and that’s precisely why November is one of the top three best months
of the year. Thanksgiving is nice, but it’s not where November really shines— November’s true notoriety comes
from the no-shave tradition. Beards will be sprouting all
over campus within the following weeks and we should
all feel blessed by this opportunity to witness exemplary
facial landscaping all around us. But, for all you nonbeard growers (a.k.a women and men who rollerblade),
you miss out on the inner joy that comes from growing
a beard. So, for you, here is one man’s account of his
journey through No Shave November:
Week One:
And so it begins. I have left my miserable life behind
and joined the ranks of all the great beard growers
throughout history: George
Washington, Poseidon, and
Robert E. Lee just to name a
few (although I’m not on their
level just yet). As of today,
the only hairs on my face are
light patches on my upper left
cheekbone and the right side
of the cleft on my chin. I can
already feel the power exuding from my face. And as President Barack Obama has
always said, “With a great beard comes great responsibility.”

Week Three:
I’m finally starting to see some real progress as I’m
beginning to look like a young Grizzly Adams. My beard is
thick and long— as long as a three-inch, two-centimeter
piece of hair on the floor of the bathtub. However, this
beautiful work of face art is a double-edged sword: It
makes me feel like a man, but people are starting to
give me spare change as I walk down the street.
Don’t get me wrong, I never turn down free money, but
my pockets are starting to get so full that my pants are
falling down randomly. To my dismay, this gives me the
image of a drunken homeless man, and only one of those
words describes me. On another note, I keep getting
food stuck in this thing. I’m not sure if that’s normal,
but I really kind of love having leftovers. My father always said, “the mark of a true beard is a mustard stain.”

"With a great
beard comes great
responsibility."

Week Two:
The progress is slow, but I now have an even layer of
hair over my face. It’s not too long, but I’m pretty sure
I have Lou Anna K. beat now—she really does have an
elegant beard though. And although I seem to be getting
more looks from women now, this beard has not gotten me any tail. (And that was really the only reason I
started growing this thing in the first place.) No worries,
though— as the hair cums, so will the ladiez.

Week Four:
OK, this thing is miserable!
It itches to all hell and has
an uncanny resemblance to
an unkempt bush (and I’m
not talking about decorative
shrubbery). Women won’t
talk to me because, apparently, I look like a sexual
predator. And to make matters worse, today someone asked me if I was an RCAH
student. Good God, what has my life become? My own
mother won’t talk to me because she “wants a son,
not a pedophile.” I can’t wait to shave in December—I
didn’t know a beard could change my life so drastically.
Unfortunately, Cody didn’t make it to December. His
journey ended shortly after he wrote that last diary
entry due to a freak accident. When Cody went to sleep
that night, his beard strangled him to death. Although
this story doesn’t have a happy ending, there is something that all of us can learn: not everyone can handle a
beard. So, to all of our readers who are growing beards
this month, please, please be careful. Beards are nothing to be fucked with. Good luck!

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Week

Courtney

sis

Woody’s Oa

Age: 23
Major: Community Relations
Relationship Status: Single
Nickname: Court
If you had to describe yourself in 3
words, which would they be? Clumsy,
careless, reckless
What’s your favorite party song?
“Monster” by Kanye West
Do you have any irrational fears?
Spiders and the dark
If you could have a super power,
what would it be? Flying
What’s the best or most ridiculous
pick-up line you’ve ever heard from
a customer? When I asked somebody if
they wanted a drink they said, “I’ll take a
pitcher of you.”
Have you ever pulled a prank on
someone? What did you do? Water

ballooning… a lot
What would you do if you woke
up tomorrow as president of the
United States? I would apologize to the
nation
If you could hook up with any
celebrity, who would it be? Jared
Leto like 5 years ago
What are your biggest turn-ons? Nice
arms and good manners
What are your biggest turn-offs?
Bad teeth and rudeness
Tell me one thing that not many
people know about you? I used to do
ballet, and I was pretty good at it.
What's the craziest thing you've
ever done while drunk? Fell asleep on
top of a parking structure
Shout-outs: All of my co-workers at
Woody’s and The Peanut Barrel!

recipe for disaster:

drinking game:

JENGA!
Before a night on the town, everyone needs some good, hard wood. Yes, guys
too. So strap in and sit down for a game that can get real sexy in a hurry.
We’re talking about Jenga, of course.
What you need: Friends (or random strangers you find on the street, but hey,
up to you), Jenga, a permanent marker, and any kind of alcohol you want.
Number of players: Two or more.
Intoxication Level: The stack of bricks won’t be the only thing toppling
over.
How to Play:
-Grab your Jenga game and pull out the blocks.
-Write instructions on each block with your handy dandy permanent marker.
You can make them really simple things like giving out drinks or you can make
them more personalized.
-Suggested instructions: chug your drink; take a shot; kiss the person next to
you; remove an article of clothing; spend the rest of the round making chicken
noises; take the drink of the person to your left; lick your foot; make a rule.
-Each person must pull a block out from Jenga and follow what it says. In
the event that someone makes a rule, everyone must follow it or suffer the
consequences (take six!).
-After the block has been pulled and the instructions have been followed, the
block must be placed on a top corner of the pile.
-When the pile falls, the person at fault must chug the rest of his or her drink.
The Game Ends When: The tower falls or people become unable to see
straight.

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Hot Dog Mac and Cheese

Remember when you were a kid and your mom made you lunch? It was probably macaroni and
cheese and a hot dog on multiple occasions. I bet you miss those days. Lucky for you, there’s a
college kid’s version of it!
What you need: Any box of mac and cheese, any kind of hot dog, a stove, a microwave, pepper
(optional), tobasco sauce (optional), and bread (also optional).
Cook time: Ten minutes. Tops.
Fatty factor: This all depends on your meat to pasta ratio. It’s clearly carb and sodium heavy,
but who cares? You can be healthy when you graduate.
Let’s Get bakin’:
-Turn on the stovetop.
-Boil that water.
-Add the noodles and wait for them to soften.
-Drain noodles.
-Microwave your desired amount of hot dogs on a paper plate. Maximum 1 minute.
-Add your butter to the macaroni and stir until it’s mostly melted.
-Add the provided cheese packet and stir.
-Add the milk (for cheesier mac and cheese, add minimal milk).
-Stir until it’s all nice and creamy.
-Chop up your hot dogs into small pieces.
-Add the hot dogs to the macaroni and cheese. Stir.
-For some extra flavor, add your desired amount of pepper and/or tobasco sauce.
-If you’re in the mood for a sandwich, grab some bread and pile on the Mac and Cheese.
-Get a plate, and go at it like you’re about to be fucking executed. Or if you’re in the mood for
something lighter and more hilarious, eat it in front of your friends and make panting noises as
you chew. This lets them know how orgasmic it is.
This recipe is awesome because it’s a throwback to your childhood. It’s cheap and affordable
(ideal college kid foods), and if you decide to use the bread, it’s even going to help out your
hangover!

11

www.theblacksheeponline.com

Another Educational Moment
with Teddy Baum Cox

I want to start off by apologizing to my readers—
I'm sorry. I recently wrote an article that I thought
would serve Michigan State students the humor and
lessons in life that they need. It wasn't until after a
few e-mails, name-calling and nights of reflecting
I realized I was wrong. I thought I had taught y’all
everything you needed to know about economics,
but after a handful of you failed the first exam, I
realized I goofed. My bad.
I left out the critical issue of substitution goods,
and there’s really no better time to learn about it
because East Lansing is currently facing a critical
Adderall shortage. Frat guys and hyperactive kids
from all over campus are panicking as the market
has dried up and demand has remained constant.
The supply was cut and its prices skyrocketed, and
odds are your funds are not able to keep up— this is
where substitution goods come into play.
Example time, goddamit: It’s finally the weekend
and you got your measly paycheck of 50 bucks from
the cafeteria. Time to buy some quality booze,
knock it back with some friends, and hopefully do
the genitalia tango with a sexy lady/bro. Sadly,
those fucksticks from PACE left you a steaming pile
of shit on the hood of your car to the tune of fifteen
bucks. Now your budget is more messed up than I
was on TBS barcrawl. (And that’s saying something.)
So, now you’re down to $35 and can't afford that
fancy bottle of whiskey. Evan Williams, it is. Bite the
bullet and curse PACE under your breath, but revel
in the fact that you just substituted goods to the
max.

Substitution goods are goods that are not your first
choice; you only buy them when you are constrained
by your budget, prices of your favorite good increase, or supply gets cut. When you’re scraping the
bottom of your wallet, you resort to the cheaper,
crappier goods in hopes of stretching that dollar.
You substitute quality in order to make ends meet.
Do you want a shit ton of watered down piss beer or
a six-pack of some tasty Michigan homebrew? Piss
beer. All day.
So, how does all of this relate to Adderall? Well, its
supply has been cut and we need to find substitutes.
Sure, we could try to study without uppers and do it
the old fashioned way, but who wants to read about
bugs from the pre-historic era if you can’t do it on
amphs? Not this guy.
The market has plenty of options including, but not
limited to: Focalin, Concerta, Dexedrine, Ritalin,
and hell, even Vyvanze. Don't be afraid if you hear
the names of these different study drugs floating
around; they’re not extremely different from Adderall, but they also have different names for a reason.
Rule one, do your research. Know these drugs and
read a few reviews. Possible side effects include but
are not limited to: a smaller penis (blood flow goes
from dick to brain), inclination to grind your teeth,
lack of appetite, insatiable thirst, incessant conversation, etc. If you don’t mind suffering from the
following, you’ll probably be just fine with any of
these drugs. So, with that—study safe, and study on
my sheep. Study on.

The Black Sheep: How did you get involved
making dubstep music? Was there a moment
you first heard dubstep and you realized
that’s what you wanted to do?
12th Planet: Before the whole dubstep explosion I was producing and DJing drum and bass,
my alias was Infiltrata and I was touring really,
really hard. I was always going to England, and I
was also playing in Europe, Canada, and all over
the US. I got to hang out in Europe in 2005 or
2006, and I played this show that had a checkin room with a screen playing this music that
sounded like slow drum and bass, and I was like,
“What is this stuff?,” like I kind of didn’t like
it at first. I just thought it was some sick joke.
One of my boys was like “Have you ever heard
this music, dubstep?”
I went to England again to that same place
for New Year’s Eve and we saw how fast dubstep
was, we heard like 40 different languages in one
night. It was people from Slovakia and China
and people from Hungary and Amsterdam and
France and everyone was there to just support
the movement, and this was in 2006? Maybe
2007? That’s when I got hooked, it just blew my
mind, everything about it.
TBS: How would you describe how dubstep
differs from regular electronic music?
12th Planet: The difference was more blatant
four or five years ago, but I think where dubstep
is now is this kind of melting pot of like electro
house and big room house and rave, and drum
and bass all put into one. It used to just be
noises, like all other electronic music, but it
had different BPM, beats per minutes. It has
140 beats per minute, but the people singing
are at half-time, like 70 BPM, but the rest of
the energy on the track is at 140 BPM. That’s
the difference between all the other electronic
music and dubstep, the beats per minute.

Rising dubstep DJ, 12th Planet, has more enthusiasm than you could pack into
a bottle rocket. This LA native can talk for hours, about getting his DJ name
from a book about aliens (“It will fucking change you life. It fucked me up so
hard.”) to what he calls his bong (“I think it’s just called ‘The Lakers Bong.’”)
But mostly this down-to-earth dude loves making music, preferably with Skrillex at all times of the day, and performing for the masses. Check him out with
Skrillex on The Mothership Tour, hitting up towns all around the US.

TBS: How do you go about making a new song
and new beats?
12th Planet: I just get a little inspiration and
smoke a little weed and just start writing. I
don’t start with drums or start with bass, I just
do whatever I feel like. If I have a sample I’ll
start with the sample and build around, but if I
have a drum kit that I made I’ll just start with
that drum kit, or if I’m messing around with a
razor or something that makes a cool noise, I’ll
just make a song from there. Sometimes they
see the light of day, sometime they don’t. One
out of every 15 tracks sees the light of day.
TBS: You’re on tour now with Skrillex, and it
seems like you guys are pretty good friends.
How did you guys meet?
12th Planet: Oh, that’s my bud. That’s a damn
good question. He was always that kid that was
at the shows and we’d talk about the songs
that were playing. Then we saw each other at
Coachella like two years ago and he started
sending me tracks and I fell in love with them
right off the bat. Before he started making
beats by himself he was in that band From
First to Last which was a vocal project, and in
those tracks he had sick production and the
songwriting was amazing. So I invited him to
come sing his songs on my sets, so we did that
two or three times and we’ve just been close
every since. He lives in downtown LA, I live in
downtown, we have a lot of the same friends.
It’s always party time.
TBS: What can someone expect from a 12th
Planet Show?
12th Planet: Lots of jumping and girls taking
their shirts off and crowd-surfing and people
rushing the barricade and having so much fun.
TBS: Do you have any pre-show rituals or
post-show rituals?

thanks for nothing, thanksgiving
Music: Mary J. BligeMy Life II…The Journey
Continues
Release Date: November 21, 2011
Why It’ll Shut ‘Em Up:
The soulful wail of Mrs.
Blige is the siren song
for recently-broken
hearts. Even if you’re
serially single, keep
this album on repeat—
and loud—to make sure that no one joins you in the
fake frown town you’ve built. If any siblings don’t fall
for the ruse, you’re going to have to recruit them, we
suggest offering a 20% cut of whatever your parents
give you for pity presents.

12th Planet: I used to just drink a
lot, but now I’m just sober for all
my shows, so that’s my ritual now.
It used to be instead of trying to
entertain everybody else it was
just me partying and DJing for
myself. Now it’s like, since I’m on
this tour and playing 5000 capacity rooms you kind of have to be on
point and interact with the crowd
and have a better performance.
So I was like that [inebriated] for
the last two or three years but
the last couple of months, the last
40 or 50 shows, I’ve been kind of
sober. That’s my pre-show ritual
now; my post-show ritual is to get drunk.
TBS: What’s the first thing you’re drinking?
12th Planet: I’m drinking Stella. It’s my favorite
beer; it’s on my rider. That and vodka and
sugar-free Red Bull.
TBS: What else is on your rider?
12th Planet: A bucket of fried chicken, grape
soda, Magnum condoms, watermelon and
grapes.
TBS: If you could collaborate with anybody
dead or alive, who would you pick?
12th Planet: Skrillex, every day of the week. If
I could I’d work with him every minute of every
day.
TBS: So I have a feeling I already know this
answer, but if you were trapped in an elevator for 24-hours who is the one person you
wish you were stuck with?
12th Planet: Skrillex, that’s my boy. We’d
make that empty elevator a party, we’d probably make music off the level buttons on the
elevator, maybe hit the fire alarm a few times.

Record it on a phone and call it a day.
TBS: In your dressing room, or in life, would
you prefer to have a chocolate fountain or a
melted cheese fountain?
12th Planet: A chocolate fountain. But the
cheese does sound kind of good, too. I can’t
answer that question. If it’s nacho cheese to dip
nachos in it, then I’m going with that.
TBS: Finish this sentence: “Nothing turns me
on more than…”
12th Planet: Oh. That’s a tough one. I should
go with the obvious, but that’s not interesting.
Oh gosh, fuck. I mean… uh… uh… oh god this is
tough!
TBS: If you want to say “tits and ass” you
can say that.
12th Planet: Tits and ass, dude! Let’s go with
that. That’s the honest to God truth. Watching
Breaking Bad turns me on, too.

JESS SOMMERS WROTE THIS

Excited to spend some quality time with the family this Thanksgiving? Didn’t
think so. Here’s some Thanksgiving releases that scream, “My media intake is
more important than talking to you.”
By: Brendan

Movie: The Muppets
Release Date: November 23, 2011
Why It’ll Shut ‘Em Up:
Your parents grew up
during the Muppets’
heyday, back when
they’d light up a jay,
flip on channel 2 and
mellow out before a
night on the town.
They’ll know exactly
why you’re seeing this movie, but will be too scared of
potential confrontation to call you out on your motives.

Video Game: Call of
Duty: Modern Warfare 3
Release Date: November
8, 2011
Why It’ll Shut ‘Em Up:
“I swear to shit you little
scummy jizz taster, try to
come in here again and
I’ll fistfuck your decapitated mom’s neckhole.”
Your parents will assume
the machine gun swearing
directed towards 13-year-olds coming from your side
of the door is meant for them. They never knew you
thought about grandma that way, especially after she
died in that horrific guillotine accident.

13

www.theblacksheeponline.com

the interview

Mat Kearney

We got to chat with Mat Kearney, a passionate 30-something singer/songwriter/storyteller
to talk about life as an ever evolving musician. Be sure to check out Kearney's latest album
Young Love, as well as on a tour near you. By: Brendan
The Black Sheep: How do you describe yourself as a musician?
Mat Kearney: Not very well. I tend to say I’m a songwriter but when I think “What kind of music?” it’s somewhere between melodic storytelling and beats. I haven’t quite figured out how I fit into the whole thing, I can’t
tell if that’s what makes me annoying or endearing, but I’m trying to figure that out myself.
TBS: If you were to describe yourself in 5 words to a stranger, what words would you use?
MK: Storyteller, epic, melodic, beat-driven, songwriter.
TBS: You talk about where you do and do not fit in, and you’ve said that your influences range from Bob
Dylan to A Tribe Called Quest. When you write music, do you purposely try to incorporate those contrasting sounds or is it just natural?
MK: It’s a natural evolution, it’s reconciling where you’ve come from and what you’re into currently. [When I
was young] I was a little skater kid that listened to a lot of hip-hop music and ran around getting arrested for
doing graffiti on things, and then I went to college and become a literature major and prided myself on my
ability to write. At the core I still love rhythmic story telling but I also fall in love with different kinds of music
every day.
TBS: Who are some musicians today that you really enjoy?
MK: I really love Drake’s last record, if we’re talking about hip-hop. I still think Tom Waits is the greatest living. I
really like Adele’s record, I know it’s a huge record. I really enjoy the new Noah and the Whale, too.
TBS: How do you go through the songwriting process when it’s just you and your guitar? Do you ever
hesitate because there isn’t really someone to check you, or do you like not having to run your ideas past
someone else?
MK: I think I have a cool thing going because when it comes to sitting down and writing a song by myself there’s
a magic in that that happens and I do that. There’s songs like “Learning to Love Again” and “Rochester” on my
record that are just me and a guitar in my living room. But a lot of songs that I write, the music is a collaboration. A lot of the record we would sit down and create beats and grooves and changes, almost like a hip-hop
record. Then I would take it away and try to write the most gut-wrenching story over the grooves. Maybe we
would add guitar later so I had something to do on stage, but there are a lot of collaborations going on.

CD REVIEW

Out Now

Summer camp

Welcome to Condale

B+

We’ll be welcomed back to Summer Camp
any day.
When I think of the noun “summer camp,” visions
of running around in a wet swimsuit, flirting with
the boys in the older cabins and maxing out on
popsicles is what floods my mind. The music that
could be the proverbial soundtrack to all of that
carefree nonsense is inconsequently from a London
duo called Summer Camp who, despite only making
music together for about two years, have managed
to make their mark on the fuzzy-wuzzy buzzband
circuit. And maybe because they look so good with
that sunkissed glow.
Welcome to Condale starts off with a great catchy
pop tune “Better Off Without You” that sounds
vaguely 80s but in the best, most genuine way. The
album continues on in a similar poppy fashion, with
spurts of interesting interludes like the beginning
of “I Want You,” which sounds like the beginning
of a dramatic movie scene and continues on with
somewhat daunting lyrics and slow-downed techno
beats. The British influence on the band is somehow more prominent during the track “Losing My
Mind” where both members of the band come in for
vocals, providing that nice texture of varying vocal
styles. “Down” is another awesome, catchy tune
that makes you want to do the running man in neon
leg-warmers, like, so badly. Their stand-out track,
though, is “Ghost Train” which starts off with a spo-

ken break-up (“I wanna get hurt!”) and continues
on into a beautifully orchestrated song that has all
the makings for a summer romance. Or a winter
romance—something has to keep you warm these
days. Either way, this will be a track you’ll have on
repeat and be so content about it.
While the album does an overall great job with
the music and the lyrics, it could stand for a little
bit more diversity. The slower songs come at you
like an unexpected wedgie, one that you couldn’t
even laugh at later. But what’s great about Summer
Camp is their unique sound, and that they own it.
For seemingly ripping off any number of '80s band,
this group plays it up perfectly without being forced
or kitsch, yet still manages to put a hip 2000s spin
on it that is as much refreshing as it is beneficial. To
be able to strike that balance shows their legitimate
talent, and is what gives me hope that this group
will continue to do great things. Hopefully they’ll
be back next year… please, please let them be
back next year, but with smoother skin and no more
braces.
Sounds Like: Summertime in 1985.
Download: Ghost Train, Down, 1988
Listen to it When: The cold is getting you down,
and so is 2011.

UPCOMING RELEASES >>>
Angels & Airwaves -Love Part One and Part Two
Disturbed - Lost Children
Cass McCombs -Humor Risk
Now 40: That's What I Call Music

TBS: Do you go into writing a new album with an idea in mind? How much
thought goes into an album?
MK: It’s much more organic, how the songs come out. Singer/songwriters get
boring most of the time, so I knew that I wanted to have moments where you
would put this record on in your car and it would make your head bob. But I
also knew that I wanted to have these stories that had to follow, these gutwrenching narratives of people. I want one of those people to be myself and
those people around me, and I guess that’s all I knew when I set out to make
this record. Me falling in love and getting married and that part of my life,
there are a lot of songs about that butterfly-in-your-stomach thing, because I
was going through that.
TBS: How do you strike that balance between experimenting with music
and knowing that fans and others above you have expectations of you?
MK: I don’t know how to do that, I struggle with that. On this record I didn’t
make a licensing record, which I’ve been known to do. I wrote about a lot
of specifics and I know that doesn’t always work well when you’re trying to
license it, but I just felt like I needed to do that for my own sake and for
a story that I wanted to tell. You don’t want to totally change the rules on
your fans every record, but I think my voice and my writing approach and the
stories I choose to write about, people can relate to that stylistically and also
emotionally.
TBS: How is the touring lifestyle different for someone who plays on stage
alone?
MK: We’re a 5-piece band and it’s pretty rock-heavy; I more model myself
after Bruce Springsteen then Bob Dylan. I’ve had guys that have played with
me for six years and they are some of my best friends and they play on my records. It’s an interesting existence because at the end of the day you have the
final say, but there’s a lot of times where it’s very democratic process, much
like a band. I don’t think I get the full benefit of the camaraderie that comes
with being in a band; there’s some days where this is a job for some people,
and with all the traveling it gets lonely. I try to level the playing field so they
feel respected as band members on stage. It’s a weird distance. I think the
way I’ve gotten around it is just hiring really good friends.
TBS: If you had the opportunity to collaborate with someone living or
dead, who would you choose?
MK: Bruce Springsteen or Jay-Z. It’d be exciting.
TBS: If tomorrows aliens come to planet Earth and they chose you to fight
for the survival of the world with any one thing, what topic do you take
them on in?
MK: I would put them in a navigational challenge – I am like Magellan in my
head, man. Meet me anywhere, and I know exactly what direction we are in.
I know where I am at all moments, it’s kind of spooky to people. I know the
quickest route to everywhere we’re going, always.
TBS: What goes on your perfect sandwich?
MK: It would be pepper turkey, Muenster cheese, lettuce, red onions, balsamic
vinegar. Classic. It works every time.

( class
time )

6 degrees
of separation

Know how these two are connected? Submit your
answer to 6degrees@theblacksheeponline.com
to possibly win a sweet prize!